Nuptial Ants

April 29, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 66 Comments

This is a spring nature phenomenon that I find fascinating: the nuptial ant flight. It is subtle and short-lived…and a wonder to witness.

It looks like a lot of small moths flying in random directions. But on closer look, it is ants with wings. Thousands of them. And they are all emerging from the same spot in the ground.

If you look closely at the bug on the lizard’s mouth, below, you see it is an ant with wings. You can also see how the lizard has strategically positioned himself at the feast, all around him are the winged ants.

The ants with wings, also known as alates, have been selected by their ant society to perpetuate the colony. There are thousands of them because many of them will end up in a predator’s mouth, like this lucky lizard’s.

It is an important phase in insect reproduction and occurs in ants, termites, and some bee species. (I have only witnessed it in ants.)

More info: antkeepers.com

Here is a photo of a carpenter ant nest on a normal day. Worker ants doing their job. Every black dot is a busy ant.

And here is a close-up of a nest hole.

Down below and out of our sight is a highly organized ant colony, millions of ants. Their social system is elaborate with various castes of workers, soldiers and more.

It’s a different scene on the Big Day when the colony releases winged fertile males (drones) and females (queens) to mate, form new colonies. They come shooting out of the hole by the thousands.

On earth we have 22,000 different species of ants. One of the world’s leading experts on ants, E. O. Wilson, estimated that the total biomass of all the ants in the world is approximately equal to the total biomass of the entire human race.

The success of their species is attributed to their social organization and drive to collectively work to support the colony.

On the day of their nuptial flight, a day they have been building toward, the winged reproductive ants leave the nest in a powerful pursuit.

It is a perilous journey. Predators will gobble up many of them.

Lizards have long tongues they can rapidly flick out and snatch up prey, and this little guy was very practiced at the art.

Here you can see his tongue. And his little legs are stretched out in his feeding frenzy.

I have seen so many of these emergences that when I see warblers or swallows or other creatures behaving erratically and in large numbers, I stop whatever I am doing and investigate.

The emergence is fast. The flying ants come spewing out of a hole, sometimes a crack in a rock…and in a few minutes it is over.

Lizards scurry, birds swoop — all the wildlife get lined up to partake of this delicious opportunity.

Here in Northern California I have seen it the most in April, often a day or so after it has rained. But I’ve also seen it on warm fall days. It’s different for every ant species.

Last week we were enjoying tea on the deck when swallows started congregating just above us.

On most spring or summer days we see one violet-green swallow, or a pair, in some nest activity.

That day there were 20 or 30 swallows within minutes– circling and diving and air-catching the flying ants. This photo shows numerous swallows in pursuit; the ants are so tiny they cannot be seen here.

Violet-green swallows catching alates, CA

Usually the event is so chaotic that you wouldn’t guess it was an ant thing, especially since it is airborne and involves so many wings. What you see is a flurry of diaphanous wings fluttering in hundreds of different directions.

The emergence is partly based on weather conditions: not too windy or cold, and wet but not too wet.

Every black dot on these rocks is an alate or winged ant.

It never lasts more than ten minutes.

When the flying ants are no longer spewing from the ground, the predators leave, the show is over.

The males mate with the queens and their life is over. The queen chews off her wings and begins the excavation of her new chamber where she will begin laying eggs.

What a species!

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Swallowtail Butterflies

April 22, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 95 Comments

Butterflies are the brightness and lightness of spring that we often long for in the dark and heavy days of winter. And then one day it IS spring and we see our first butterfly.

They are a gentle reminder that life on earth is all about change.

Pipevine Swallowtail, Longwood Gardens, PA

Butterflies start out as microscopic eggs, then become tiny worm-like larvae, then grow bigger into caterpillars, molting numerous times. Next they create their own cocoons, and, as we all know, then metamorphize from their pupae state into a butterfly. What an earthly marvel this is.

Below are five photos of the Anise Swallowtail butterfly, Papilio zelicaon, in its various stages.

One summer day two years ago as Athena was photographing, this butterfly’s wriggling and arched thorax posture (below) caught her eye. She realized she was witnessing the adult female depositing her eggs. The eggs are microscopic, cannot be seen here.

This is a caterpillar’s early “instar” or stage (below). It is about the size of a staple and is so small and inconspicuous it can easily be mistaken as a bird dropping.

Several times the anise swallowtail caterpillar molts into a bigger skin. You can see how different the caterpillar above is from the caterpillar below — yet they are the same species, just different stages.

After the various instar caterpillar stages, they create their pupa (below) and stay in there, immovable, until the caterpillar tissues break down and rebuild into butterfly tissues.

While each stage is beautiful, the butterfly stage is spectacular.

Anise Swallowtail Butterfly on fennel, Calif.

There are about 17,500 species of butterflies in the world.

Pictured throughout this post are all swallowtail butterfly species. Members of the Papilionidae family, there are about 550 species.

Swallowtail Wikipedia link.

We noticed a butterfly phenomenon one day on the edge of the Belizean rainforest. These Dark Kite-swallowtails were “puddling,” a technique for extracting minerals, primarily salt. Protographium philolaus.

You can see the pronounced forked hindwings, aka as tails, for which the swallowtails are named. This “tail” is reminiscent of the forked tails of swallows.

Swallowtails are some of the largest butterflies on earth. Some species are so large that on first take you think it might be a bird. Both species below have whopping wingspans at around five inches (13 cm).

The Giant Swallowtail (Papilio cresphontes) is the largest butterfly in North America.

I am often buoyed by these dancing kaleidoscopic creatures who start out so immobile and teensy and dark, and as each day turns to the next, they somehow know what to do. Soon they have mysteriously blossomed into delicate splendor.

The earth changes; we change. Thank heaven for butterflies who show us the way.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly, Angel Island, CA

New Backyard Friends

April 15, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 93 Comments

I moved recently, have a new backyard, and I’m happy to share a few of my new backyard friends.

I’ll start with the most thrilling: the Allen’s Hummingbird (Selasphorus sasin).

My new residence is only a 25-minute drive down the mountain from where I previously lived, so you would think the birds would be the same. But there are some differences.

In our new location, we have breeding Allen’s hummingbirds; they were only rare visitors to our mountain domain, presumably because of the altitude. The breeding range of Allen’s hummingbirds is very small in the U.S., it is a thin ribbon on the California-Oregon coast. Range map link.

They are still the same little intense package that all hummingbirds are, but now we have the pleasure of witnessing the Allen’s breeding dance.

A tiny orange and green bird, the male during his breeding dance has a loud sizzling buzz. Additionally, there are shimmery flashes of coppery gold, swooping dives, and an elaborate rhythmic display of pendulous arcs. It’s a grand show.

And that’s only the beginning. The new house is situated between a forest and an oak woodland, we are surrounded by many bird species. Occasional ducks and waders fly overhead, Canada geese roost nearby, raptors, woodpeckers and lots of songbirds join us.

Acorn woodpeckers abound. One of my favorite woodpeckers, Melanerpes formicivorus are very entertaining to watch with their bold colors, bright markings, flashing flight, and vocal presence.

Last week I spotted a large dead oak tree in a neighbor’s yard. The tree, known as a granary, hosts dozens of acorn woodpeckers…it is wonderful. Here they excavate holes to store their acorns. This highly social bird congregates there, but when they want a refreshing sip of water, they gather at our bird bath.

We acquired that bird bath from the previous owner. The stem of it is textured like a tree, and at least one woodpecker thought it WAS a tree, hopping up the stem in a circling pattern.

Wild turkeys roam the neighborhood, too, they roost in the adjacent forest. Their loud gobbling throughout the day always brings a smile to my face. Some nights around sunset they meander through the grass behind our fence.

And on several occasions, we have had the supreme pleasure of watching the toms (males) display for the females.

One night four black-tailed deer came by. They are a subspecies of the mule deer, Odocoileus hemionus columbianus. This is a young buck, evident by the start of antlers.

I’ve been told by my new neighbors that in June a shepherd and his flock will come to our back woodland. The shepherd leaves the sheep here in a fenced enclosure and the wooly ruminants eat all the tall grass. It will be very interesting to see how all this plays out.

One day I watched a red-shouldered hawk swoop into our yard, snatch up a lizard, and then land in a big oak limb while he ate the lizard.

I love lizards. The excitement of the predator on prey was fun, but I especially enjoy watching the lizards bask on the rocks and skitter across our dirt.

Western Fence Lizard (*Sceloporus occidentalis*), CA

There are also several California ground squirrels. Otospermophilus beecheyi. Apparently they have created an extensive tunnel system beneath our garden. This cheeky but cute one, below, is eating a red rose bud.

Then this past weekend we watched a yellow daisy abruptly shake like we were in an earthquake, and then it suddenly disappeared, vanishing below the soil. That cheeky ground squirrel was down there sucking up the flower as if it was spaghetti.

Other ground-dwelling friends include the white-crowned and gold-crowned sparrows, two towhee species (California and Spotted), and several pairs of California quail (Callipepla californica).

I was surprised and delighted to see one of my favorite butterflies, the pipevine swallowtail. In the last three decades, I have seen this butterfly species about five times. So imagine my delight in seeing them come to the backyard all day long.

Battus philenor have iridescent blue hindwings and their ventral (under) side has bright orange spots.

Pipevine Swallowtail (**Battus philenor**), CA

My friends the Corvids surround us too–crows, ravens, and scrub jays–and I’m especially interested right now in what I am sure is a baby crow on a nest in one of the nearby oak trees. I hear a crow nestling whine strongly, see a parent crow fly overhead, then hear the whining stop.

I spent the past 21 years on a mountaintop, my former home, and most days were highlighted with a sweet wildlife encounter. So it is with true awe and relief that I can say: the enchantment continues.

And not only do I have the adventure of new backyard friends, but I now have the added pleasure of your visit, dear Reader. Thanks for stopping by.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Sand Dunes at Abbotts Lagoon

February 25, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 104 Comments

A recent Valentine’s Day visit to Abbotts Lagoon took us past the lagoon, adventuring along the sand dunes.

Abbotts Lagoon is an area within Point Reyes National Seashore, Northern California.

More info: Abbotts Lagoon Wikipedia.

Point Reyes is a unique place on earth because it is at the junction of two major tectonic plates: Pacific and North American. Located in the San Andreas Fault Zone, the Point Reyes peninsula has, as you can see from the map at the end, been slowly separating from the U.S. mainland over eons of tectonic movement. Wikipedia says “In the 1906 earthquake, Point Reyes moved north 21 ft (6.4 m).”

This ongoing plate movement has yielded many different land formations in Point Reyes.

Abbotts Lagoon, located on the northwest tip of the peninsula, has a two-stage lagoon, sandstone cliffs, and ocean beaches.

Link: U.S. Geological Survey on Point Reyes

The trail starts at the parking lot on Pierce Point Road and is 3.6 miles long–to the ocean and back. For the first mile-and-a-half, the trail is gravel and relatively flat and lies in a protected valley. The surrounding terrain is coastal chaparral.

There are always California quail, white-crowned sparrows, and black-tailed deer in this section.

But the closer we get to the sea, the more things change. The gravel under your feet turns to sand.

Then slight hills begin to lift the hiker out of the valley, the dunes come into view, and we are greeted by brisk ocean winds. This photo (below) shows the lagoon in the lower half of the photo, the dunes in the middle, and the Pacific Ocean just above the dunes revealing whitecaps on our February day.

Although the sand is loose, vegetation takes hold in some places.

The trail ends at the upper lagoon and ocean; there’s a short bridge to cross. At different times of the year we see otters frolicking beneath the bridge. There were no otters that day, but we did find recent otter prints in the sand. In a couple more months, swallows will start nesting on the bridge’s underside.

Foraging around the lagoon are a variety of waders and ducks. That day we saw common mergansers; some days we have seen large flocks of white pelicans here, also cormorants, gulls, herons and many species of shore birds.

This great egret was enjoying a fishy snack.

We also came across three piles of feathers and bones, presumably from a prowling coyote’s success the night before.

Turkey vultures partake in these events too.

Beach strawberries (Fragaria chiloensis), vines and flowers, were taking hold in the loose sand. Chilly February temperatures will eventually give way to warmer days when the strawberries will leaf out more.

This giant tree has been occupying the beach through all the decades I have hiked here. It is a popular place for hikers to stop and take a rest from the laboring loose-sand walk, and little kids climb all over it. We perched here and turned our backs to the wind, enjoying the fresh air and moody sky.

At this point, the beach starts to open up, leading to the ocean’s shoreline. Climbing the dunes yields ocean views.

This area of open sand is meticulously marked and roped off from Memorial Day to Labor Day to give the snowy plovers a safe, protective place to lay their eggs in the sand.

But on a gusty Valentine’s Day, there were no snowy plovers and few humans…and my heart was filled with the beauty and wildness that is Abbotts Lagoon.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

SF’s Aquatic Park

February 11, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 79 Comments

After living in the Bay Area for three decades, I have many favorite spots in San Francisco. One of my top favorites is Aquatic Park.

Located at the west end of Fishermans Wharf, it spans a short beach on the San Francisco Bay.

Owned and operated by the National Park Service, the park is a National Historic Landmark. It’s touted as “America’s Only Floating National Park.”

Here you will find much to keep you occupied with the past and the present.

There are old wooden piers lined with a fleet of permanently moored ships, some that you can go inside.

The Maritime Museum is also part of Aquatic Park. Built to mimic an ocean liner, the museum was built in 1939 as part of the New Deal Works Progress Administration (WPA). It offers art deco architecture as well as many seafaring exhibits.

The interior of the museum, also known as the Bathhouse building, showcases stunning depression-era WPA murals on every wall. Hilaire Hiler (1898-1966) created the undersea murals.

More info: San Francisco Maritime National Historic Park.

When standing on the museum’s back veranda, one feels like they are on the upper deck of a ship. Surrounded by exquisite WPA tile walls in marine themes, you have an elevated, full panoramic view overlooking the San Francisco Bay.

Maritime Museum, Sea Forms by Sargent Johnson and Mohammed Zyani.

Balclutha in SF Bay (Alcatraz in background)

Aquatic Park also boasts a large grass lawn and ample amphitheater seats with views of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz.

This is a great place to watch boats, joggers, bike riders, swimmers, tourists, and local residents while gulls cruise overhead.

There is also a municipal pier for fishing enthusiasts.

My favorite thing to do in Aquatic Park is visit the ships.

There are a couple of old wooden piers open to the public that lead to the anchored vessels, including the restored Hyde St. Pier. The piers are a five-minute walk from the museum, and invite visitors to sit on the benches, wander in amazement, or climb aboard the ships.

Before the Golden Gate Bridge was built, Hyde Street Pier was a popular spot for the ferries to transport residents from across the bay to San Francisco.

Standing on these piers you feel dwarfed by the majestic old ships.

Folks who have paid the museum park fee can board the ships.

Walking across a gang plank onto the ship instantly transports a person from land to sea and from the present to the past.

My favorite ship is the Balclutha, an 1886 square-rigger. Built in Glasgow, Scotland, the Balclutha made its maiden voyage to San Francisco in 1887. It took 140 days and a crew of 26 men to transport the cargo of 1,650 tons of coal.

On deck is the bracing smell of briny sea air, and mast rigs continually clang as the stiff ocean breezes rock the ship.

Balclutha rigging (and swimmer on far right)

Other restored vessels include an 1895 schooner, 1890 steam ferryboat, 1890 scow schooner, 1907 steam tug, 1914 paddlewheel tug, and a circa 1890 San Francisco houseboat. I have returned here many times because there are so many boats to explore, it cannot be done in just one day.

The next two photos show the side-wheel paddle steamboat: the Eureka. Built in the Bay Area in 1890, this vessel had many lives ferrying trains and then cars from Sausalito and Tiburon to San Francisco.

Vintage cars from the 1920s and ’30s are lined up on the Eureka, as if they are ready to disembark.

There are great views of San Francisco from the ships and piers, too.

Often a swimmer or two can be seen swimming by, like in this photo’s foreground.

Lastly, Aquatic Park is also a San Francisco mainstay for open-water swimmers. There are local residents who regularly swim the cove for fitness, and it is also popular for training triathletes.

There are numerous open-water swimming events here throughout the year.

The classic San Francisco Bay swim route is a 1.5-mile (2.4 km) plunge from Alcatraz Island to Aquatic Park in 60-62-degree Fahrenheit (15-17 C) water. You have to be a serious swimmer to brave the frigid water, strong tides and currents.

“Escape from Alcatraz” is the most popular swim event in Aquatic Park, named after the mysterious 1962 escape of three prisoners from Alcatraz.

Are there sharks in the bay? Yes, several different species. And seals and sea lions too.

This aerial view of Aquatic Park shows the Maritime Museum (bottom center), the municipal fishing pier (long, curved structure), and the historic ships right of the yellow line. The yellow line indicates the swimmers’ lap area.

Aquatic Park, SF. Photo courtesy Golden Gate Triathlon Club.

Places to adventure within a five-minute walk of Aquatic Park: Ghiradelli Square (shops and restaurants); the Hyde-Powell cable car line; Fishermans Wharf.

Whether you’re steeped in the seafaring days of yore or strolling in the 21st century, Aquatic Park has something for everyone.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Aussie Backroad Thrill

February 4, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 72 Comments

This was a backroad adventure that topped all, one afternoon in Queensland Australia.

Photographers, wildlife observers and adventurers, we seek out the backroads, carving time out of our schedules to slow down, look around, and embrace whatever comes our way.

We had been in the area of North Queensland for two weeks and had managed to keep our rental car on the “wrong” side of the road with success. Three days in the field with an expert bird guide had acquainted us with billabongs and kangaroos and all kinds of Aussie oddities.

After our time with the guide ended, Athena and I hit the backroads all on our own. We were in the Wet Tropics of Queensland, a unique and rugged tropical rainforest, about 30 miles inland from coastal Cairns.

Tropical rainforests are generally rainy and dark and dank, and this was no exception.

It was humid and we had the car windows open, driving slowly and listening to the birds that dominated the surrounding forest. Narrow lanes branched off the road in this dense thicket leading to occasional modest houses barely visible through the vines and trees.

Spotted Catbirds called incessantly–a green-backed bird who sounds like a city alley cat that’s just had its tail stepped on.

Here’s what they sound like: Spotted catbird sound.

Doves monotonously cooed, while cockatoos and parrots squawked and ate flowers, perched on vines.

All around us the forest canopy dripped with moisture and shrieked with cackles and cries.

By now we were familiar with the brush turkeys who roamed the trails, and whipbirds with piercing calls that sound like cracking whips.

Eucalyptus and giant strangler fig trees were by now familiar, too.

We were adept at spotting many strange creatures, but what we found that day on the Kuranda Forest backroad was beyond our wildest dreams.

Fortunately we were inside the car when it happened…

when the human-sized bird, the Southern Cassowary, silently emerged from the forest.

A heavy flightless bird with a long colorful neck and ostrich-like body was walking down the road toward us.

Cassowary adult and chick in front of our car, Aus.

This was an adult male and it didn’t take long to see he had three chicks in tow.

Casuarius casuarius are extremely rare to find in Australia. Endangered.

We had already had a thrilling but terrifying experience with a cassowary deep in a different rainforest, days earlier. They are one of our planet’s fiercest birds. They have lethal claws on their feet and can quickly, if threatened, kick a human to death.

But this time we were in a safer position, in the car.

We knew not to stir; not to get out of the car or make any sudden movements, as it would scare off the cassowaries.

He knew we were there, but quickly assessed we were no threat.

He walked down the muddy road slowly, leading his three progeny, stopping occasionally to search for food.

Although they were chicks, they were not small. One day, if they are lucky to survive, they will grow up to be as tall as a human. But for now they were new to this planet, and still about knee-high.

We quietly whispered our triumphal exclamations and barely moved, eager to keep the cassowaries in our presence for as long as possible. The whole encounter lasted about ten blissful minutes.

We were lucky no other car, dog, or human came along to scare them away.

It was just a quiet time alone with a family of four cassowaries.

Eventually they slowly sauntered back into the forest, vanished into the mass of trees and vines.

Wherever and whenever I can, I take the backroads. You never know what you might find.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Sacramento Natl. Wildlife Refuge 2022

January 28, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 88 Comments

Our day last week at the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge was another bonanza of wildlife, a particularly exciting adventure in the middle of winter.

The enormous number of birds is what keeps things so interesting. It is a 10,819-acre (43.78 sq. km.) wetland expanse; a wintering home to hundreds of thousands of migrating geese, ducks and other waterfowl.

The Northern California migration typically lasts from November through January, depending on the weather.

The most predominate goose species every year is the Snow Goose. They come from Wrangell Island in Siberia (U.S.S.R.) and spend the winter here in our milder climate.

This year there were also several hundred Ross’s geese.

And thousands of White-fronted Geese.

White-fronted Goose, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

What we saw were waves and waves of white geese flying in all different directions.

What we heard was the most magnificent cacophony of honking and squawking.

This is a good representational recording: Click here for Snow Geese flock cacophony.

There are also many duck species who winter in the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge.

Last week the major duck species was the Northern Shovelers. Last month, according to the Survey Summary, there were a lot of pintail ducks. It varies depending on the month and weather.

Northern Shovelers (Spatula clypeata) have similar coloring to mallards, but their namesake shovel-shaped bills easily distinguish them. They can often be seen swinging their spatulate bills from side to side in the water as they strain aquatic vegetation, plankton, and tiny invertebrates.

We often saw the Shovelers like this…

Northern Shoveler pair, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

…but just as often like this.

The geese and ducks are only part of the refuge extravaganza, for there are also songbirds, shorebirds, waders, gulls, grebes, woodpeckers, raptors and other birds.

Here a white-faced ibis joined the northern shovelers. Tall bird in center with the long bill.

Northern Shovelers and White-faced Ibis, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

We spotted this adult and immature pair of bald eagles early on our auto tour (photo below). From this distance it looks like two dots in the tallest tree.

Two bald eagles in the distance, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

We knew we would get a better look at them as we progressed down the road.

At times we heard them calling out–a screeching sound.

And eventually we came closer.

The adult was easier to spot due to the characteristic white head.

It takes 4-5 years for a bald eagle to reach maturity, acquire the white head and tail. Prior to that there are many stages of maturation.

The immature bald eagle (below) still had a gray bill and a dark head, so is probably around 2-3 years old.

Bald Eagle, immature, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

The young eagle’s flying was accomplished, and we enjoyed watching him/her swoop over the ducks, practicing bravado. The ducks scattered in a flutter of wingbeats when the young eagle came near.

We spotted western meadowlarks numerous times that day. They brighten up the brown landscape with their vivacious yellow markings, and even more bright is their song. A magical fluty series of notes.

Western Meadowlark, Sactramento NWR, Calif.

We have always seen an interesting array of mammals here too. This year we saw nearly a dozen black-tailed jackrabbits, a striped skunk and a ground squirrel.

Two Black-tailed Jackrabbits, No. California

Two years ago we came upon a trio of river otters in one of the water-filled ditches. They were having a grand time catching fish, and the feeding frenzy lasted at least a half-hour.

River otter with fish, Sacramento NWR, California

Otter pair with fish, Sacramento NWR, California

Reptiles also joined last week’s fracas. First there were two western pond turtles on a log. Soon a third and then a fourth climbed onto the same log.

Throughout the whole turtle encounter, I noticed there was one who kept opening its mouth wide. You can see it in this photo, third from the left.

Four western pond turtles, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

Come to think of it, it seems like all these wildly beautiful creatures seemed to have their mouths open that day. The geese were honking, mallards laughing uproariously, the bald eagles were screeching and the meadowlarks were warbling.

Made me want to sing too.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

The Snipe

January 21, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 92 Comments

Wilson’s Snipe (R) with a pair of Cinnamon Teal, Cosumnes River Preserve, CA

I had the fortune of seeing a family of snipe this week. This is a bird that few people notice or know of, and some people think is imaginary.

Wilson’s Snipe, Gallinago delicata, is in the shorebird family: Scolopacidae. It is the most common snipe in North America.

They are short, pudgy birds about the size of an American Robin; usually found in marshes, with sandy coloring and markings that perfectly camouflage them.

This is the family of four we spotted while birding at Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge this week.

Four Wilson’s Snipes in grass, upper center

With the tall grass and their camouflage, you can see how tricky they are to spot. They are standing (above photo) in the tall grass that spans the photo’s upper center. In the foreground on a log is a pair of resting green-winged teals.

We were on our annual visit to see the waterfowl winter migration. A spectacle that always delights.

Snow geese migration, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

While there, we spotted the snipes. In addition to their camouflaging, they have elusive behavior.

In over 30 years of birding, I have seen the snipe only about a half-dozen times. Spotting four at once was an unprecedented bonanza.

We were on the Refuge’s auto tour at one of the few places where we were allowed to get out of our car. We were having lunch: enjoying a bite, then scanning with the binoculars, listening to the cacophony of migrating geese and ducks, taking another bite, then looking through the spotting scope. To birders like Athena and me, this is heaven.

Athena taking a lunch break, Sacramento NWR, Calif.

In our initial 360-degree binocular scan of the area, we spotted the snipes and enjoyed close to an hour there.

They never changed positions in that hour, except an occasional head lift.

This is the scene without extra lenses.

Sacramento NWR. Snipes on the center island. Calif.

They use their long bill to probe into the mud for food. Their diet consists of insect larvae and insects like dragonflies, beetles and moths; and invertebrates like snails and worms.

Two special features of that marvelous bill: it is flexible and thereby good for probing; and the snipe can swallow small prey without pulling their bill from the mud.

John James Audubon wrote an extensive observation about the snipe–it’s behavior, migration, flight, breeding, and more.

Link: Audubon’s Birds of America, American Snipe

They do not breed in Northern California, and I have never seen the mating displays. But I have read they have a spectacular flight dance.

Here is Audubon’s description of the flight dance of a snipe pair:

“It often happens that before these birds depart in spring, many are already mated. The birds are then met with in meadows or on low grounds, and, by being on the spot before sunrise, you may see both mount high in the air in a spiral manner, now with continuous beats of the wings, now in short sailings, until more than a hundred yards high, when they whirl round each other with extreme velocity, and dance as it were to their own music; for at this juncture, and during the space of five or six minutes, you hear rolling notes mingling together, each more or less distinct….”

Audubon’s snipe drawing, Plate 243, is below. It was completed in 1835. This is an online partial drawing.

“American Snipe” by John J. Audubon, Plate 243. Courtesy audubon.org

In Audubon’s time (1785-1851), the bird was called the American Snipe. At that time, Alexander Wilson, a Scottish-American ornithologist and illustrator, was the first to prove the snipe here in America was different than the Common Snipe of Europe. So it was dubbed the American Snipe.

Over the years it would be named the Common Snipe, and then more recently it was further classified into two bird species, the most common American Snipe being named Wilson’s Snipe.

Why is it an imaginary bird to some people?

Because there is an age-old trick dating back to the mid-1800s called the Snipe hunt. As a rite-of-passage trick, elders tell a young person how to hunt for snipe (or some other non-existing creature), and then leave them alone in the woods with an empty bag and instructions for catching it. It’s a fool’s errand that tricks young ones into goofy behavior alone in the woods while everyone else runs away. Many youngsters, after the gig is up, think there is no such thing as a snipe.

As we sat eating lunch, basking in the sunshine and the thrill of being near four snipes, a few people walked by. We invited them to take a look in the scope at the snipe.

Their enthusiastic reactions and comments indicated they knew of the snipe but had rarely seen one. All were in awe.

This is a photo taken through the spotting scope.

Wilson’s Snipe through spotting scope, Calif.

We spotted nearly 40 different bird species that day, and thousands and thousands of migrating waterfowl visiting Northern California from as far north as Russia’s East Siberian Sea and North America’s Bering Sea and Arctic Ocean. An incredible migration that I will tell you more about soon.

Fortunately for us, snipes are not imaginary. They are old and ancient friends of Homo sapiens. The name may change occasionally, but the bird has been occupying marsh shorelines for well over 187 years.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Range Map for Wilson's Snipe — Range map *Gallinago delicata.* Ora=Breeding; Yel=Migration; Pur=Year-round; Blue=Nonbreeding. Courtesy allaboutbirds.org.

Waters in the Okavango Delta

January 14, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 96 Comments

The Okavango Delta is an inland delta in southern Africa, with waters formed by seasonal flooding. When the water is here, wildlife abound.

More info: Okavango Delta Wikipedia.

The Delta is flat and vast, covering 5,800 square miles (15,000 sq. km.); on the edge of the Kalahari Desert.

We visited this UNESCO World Heritage Site years back in August, when the Okavango River floods the Delta and wildlife congregate.

Large African antelope called waterbuck are often found around water because they cannot tolerate dehydration.

Little Bee-eaters perch as they wait for bees. If you watch bee-eaters long enough, you have the pleasure of watching one sally out in a flash, grab a bee, whack it against a tree, and come back to the perch to consume it.

Hippopotamuses are semiaquatic mammals; they spend their days in lakes and rivers, staying cool in water or mud. At night they graze on grasses.

This is a rufous-bellied heron we watched wrestling with a carp. He swallowed it whole.

Other bird species we commonly found foraging in the Okavango Delta waters were jacana and the fish eagle.

Jacanas have feet designed to evenly distribute the weight of the bird so they can walk atop lily pads. But in many parts of the Delta their long legs take them through shallower waters.

The African Fish Eagle, a raptor, was fierce and vigilant and commonly found in many watery parts.

Other raptors were the African Barred Owl and Black-shouldered Kite. They, too, found their perches and stealthily waited.

Wattled cranes, the largest cranes in Africa and globally threatened, forage on aquatic tubers and rhizomes of submerged sedges and water lilies. It was thrilling to find this trio, for this crane species is rare to find.

The hamerkop is one of my favorite birds, named for the hammer shape of its head. We didn’t see them too often but when we did, we watched intently.

Blacksmith Plovers in their bold patterning were often seen in the waterways.

We passed this hippo pond at sunset and watched their antics until the day’s light had receded.

There are over 5,000 species of wild mammals and over 10,000 species of birds on this planet. I am glad I could share a few of them from the Okavango Delta with you.

Written by Jet Eliot.

All photos in the wild by Athena Alexander.

Our Winter Thrushes

January 7, 2022 / Jet Eliot / 98 Comments

We are fortunate in Northern California to have four species of thrushes join us for the winter months. Here’s a brief look at these beautiful birds.

Although Northern California is not warm in the winter, it is temperate enough that some bird species migrate here. We have driving rain and icy nights, but the sun comes out often and when it does, the birds leave their roosts in search of food.

For the thrushes, berries are a big draw.

American Robin on Toyon bush, California

Our four thrush species are “true thrushes,” all from the family Turidae: American Robin, Hermit Thrush, Varied Thrush, and Western Bluebird.

Many years, especially in the last decade, if we are in a drought and haven’t had enough autumn rain, the berries don’t form. They start to grow, but without rain the berries shrivel up and drop to the ground.

But this past autumn we had plenty of rain, and consequently this winter there are berries everywhere. And thrushes everywhere.

Red berries on toyon, pyracantha, and cotoneaster shrubs; orange berries on the madrone trees.

American Robin in pyracantha, California

American Robins, Turdus migratorius, are here year-round. In warm months we see them in pairs or small groups. In winter we have our local residents plus the migrants from Canada and Alaska, resulting in gloriously huge flocks.

Sometimes there will be 10 or 20 of them, rustling in the trees and bushes, plucking berries and chuckling as they engage in their lunch party. They are a big bird with whirring wingbeats, easy to hear and see.

American Robin in Toyon bush, California

Other times they can be flying high overhead in a flock of 60-100, often crossing the sky at the end of the day getting in one last meal before bedtime. The sky is absolutely filled with them. It’s one of my favorite winter sights, and I stop in my tracks when I hear them overhead…gaze up.

The hermit thrushes (Catharus guttatus) and varied thrushes (Ixoreus naevius) are migrants, spend the winter here but only if there are berries. There are many years when they arrive in autumn, having flown long distances from Canada and northern states. If they discover only shriveled berries, they leave within a day and don’t return until next season.

With the gift of rain this year, both the hermit and varied thrushes have spent the winter.

Varied thrushes are west coast birds. They spend the winter here on the coast from Northern California all the way up to northern British Columbia.

On Christmas Day in 2015 we were in a Northern California giant redwood forest when we spotted this female popping around in the undergrowth.

Athena, Avenue of the Giants, California

In the eastern parts of the country, bird aficionados associate the hermit thrushes with their melodious flute-like song. The song, however, is part of their breeding ceremonials, and has nothing to do with winter foraging.

The call of the hermit here in winter is simply “chup-chup.” The varied thrush sound is a unique two-toned call that cuts through the forest on a rainy winter day.

Hermit Thrush sound, click here.

Varied Thrush sound, click here.

The bluebirds. Many people don’t realize bluebirds are thrushes, in the Turidae family.

Sialia mexicana, western bluebirds, live here year-round. This photo was taken on a March afternoon.

Western Bluebird on Angel Island, Calif.

In spring they breed and nest, but in the winter they are searching for insects and berries.

This past summer I wrote a post about a pair of bluebirds who were nesting in the carcass of a burned tree. Some readers may remember this. (New Life in a Dead Tree.)

The brood was successful and when the chicks were big enough, the family of four left the nest and went out into the world.

Imagine what a thrill it was this past week when we returned to that meadow, on a short walk between rains, and saw the family. They perched very near to their home spot, the dead tree, chirped a cheerful hello to us, and then off they went in search of a meal.

There is something very special about the winter birds. When the flowers are gone and landscapes are stark and temperatures make you shiver, it is heartwarming to have a little aviary friend by your side.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.